


Jenny

by Isilien_Elenihin



Series: Amaranthine [6]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Amaranthine, F/F, F/M, Warehouse 13 fusion fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 13:11:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1388893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isilien_Elenihin/pseuds/Isilien_Elenihin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A vignette from Amaranthine, my Warehouse 13 au.  There's trouble in the Warehouse and the Doctor's daughter holds the key.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jenny

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing you recognize belongs to me.

Rose is dying.

Objectively Jenny knows this. The Master is the Past and Rose is the Present, and in the Warehouse a past Caretaker is given precedence over the current Caretaker. It's wrong on so many levels, and if she had the time she would list them for the Regents in a fifty-page, double sided, single spaced paper.

With footnotes.

As it is she doesn't have time because Rose doesn't have time and Jenny has watched too many people wither and die already; she won't watch that happen to her father's wife (she won't watch that happen to her father). And it's worse because she _likes_ Rose; she likes anyone who can quell the Doctor so effectively with a single look. Jenny is under no illusions with regards to her father: he's arrogant and overconfident and damaged and stubborn and so, so _sad_ –but she makes him better, just like he makes her better. It's the kind of partnership that Jenny hopes to find one day, not a love to complete her because she is already whole, but two people coming together and creating something that is greater than the sum of its pieces.

"You should eat, sweetie." An elegantly manicured hand deposits a sandwich on a paper plate on her right, followed by a glass of what appears to be apple juice. River folds herself into the chair next to Jenny and gives her sometime lover, sometime rival a pointed look. She's dressed for the road; there's a dig in Peru with her name on it, apparently, or so she said when Jenny called her two days ago, frantic.

Jenny rolls her eyes but obliges and takes a bite. There's a bit of guilt wedged deep down–how can she be eating when someone's life hangs in the balance–but starving herself won't help defeat the Master. The sandwich is delicious and her eyebrow arches in disbelief. "You didn't make this."

River laughs. "Me, cook? Oh, that will be the day. Clara made some before she left."

At least something has gone to plan. Clara is the Keeper, the person entrusted with the most dangerous information the Warehouse possesses. If the Master got his hands on her–well. It wouldn't be pretty. "And I'll bet she loved that."

"Of course not." River's voice is sharp and her eyes are sharper. "She loves this place, even loves your idiot father, but she knows what has to be done." River's gaze slips beyond Jenny to the pale green ribbon lying next to her.

"How is she?" Jenny refuses to look. She could save a life with that green ribbon. She could wrap it around Rose's wrist and disconnect her from the Warehouse entirely. She could reduce her back to factory setting after twenty two years of being the Caretaker. The thought leaves her shaky and nauseas.

"Getting worse. She was talking to Jack when I left."

Jenny's hand curls into a fist. Jack is dead, has been for nearly twenty years. River strokes her arm gently, smoothing out the wrinkles in her sleeve. "We'll stop him," the older woman assures her.

And then Rose screams.

Strange energy crackles everywhere. Artifacts move, seemingly under their own power, and a voice reverberates the very walls.

" _Get out of my Warehouse_ ," the Master shouts, and the gentle melody in Jenny's head transforms to the overpowering sound of drums.

The Doctor holds his wife, desperately trying to calm her. He is older now; his hair is steel gray instead of brown, and trending to white just around his ears. The glasses are back, thick plastic frames that are less for making him look clever than they are for allowing him to read street signs. Gone are the tweed jacket and aubergine coat. The suit is back, but in charcoal gray instead of brown and blue pinstripes, and the Chucks remain in their box in the back of the closet (there is less running now, for him, and perhaps a bit more delegating–he has one life left and the fact of his own mortality looms in the distance).

Jenny grabs the ribbon. It is too weak to use on the Master but she can still save a life. "I'm sorry," she whispers as she drapes it over Rose's wrist. "I'm so sorry."

* * *


End file.
